Harry Potter in Wicked
by MrsxLovettx92
Summary: Harry Potter version of "Wicked" musical, not book . Was Voldemort really an evil Dark wizard, or was he misunderstood? Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1 No One Mourns the Wicked

**Harry Potter in **_**Wicked**_

A/N: This is basically a _Harry Potter_ version of _Wicked _[the musical, not the book], with Voldemort replacing Elphaba and Lucius replacing Galinda/Glinda. This fic will follow the life of Voldemort, from his birth, through his early childhood and Hogwarts years and adulthood, and end with his death. I'm not yet quite sure how the rest of the characters in Wicked will be represented, but I'll make it work somehow xD.

That being said, this fic will be somewhat AU, but will follow canon when necessary. Bear with me, it'll all make sense in the end =]

**This fic is a complete re-write of a story I started almost two years ago. I got pretty far into the story, but got lazy after a while and chose not to upload the rest. So I decided to just start over. Hopefully this one will turn out better than the original.**

Enjoy, and don't forget to REVIEW!!!!

**Chapter 1: No One Mourns the Wicked**

"He's dead!"

"Potter has just killed You-Know-Who!"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone!"

The Great Hall of Hogwarts Castle was abuzz with excitement, for the day many had feared would never come had arrived at last: Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, had done what countless grown wizards before him had failed to do. Harry Potter had slain the Dark Lord. Voldemort was dead, and the reign of terror inflicted on the Wizarding world for nearly three decades had finally come to an end.

"You know," said a voice in the midst of the celebration. A nearby crowd of people, most of whom were intent on wringing Harry's hand, looked toward the newcomer. The stranger turned around, and they saw, with a jolt of revulsion, that it was none other than Lucius Malfoy, who was, until recently, one of Voldemort's most loyal Death Eaters. "The Dark Lord was not always as evil as people made him out to be."

This bold statement had all of those present, including Harry, transfixed. Of course Voldemort had been evil; he had been the worst, most unscrupulous Dark wizard in a hundred years! But Lucius had, after all, known Voldemort fairly well, or about as well as anyone had ever known the mysterious and unsociable wizard.

"Yes, back in his Hogwarts days, the Dark Lord was the model student," Malfoy continued. "Prefect, Head Boy, winner of the award for Special Services to the School. He was damn near the best student this school has ever seen, as well as an exceptionally talented young wizard. The only reason he became involved in the Dark Arts was because his fellow students mistook his academic and magical aptitude for Dark magic, and the Dark Lord, fed up with these ludicrous accusations, decided to live up to his reputation."

The onlookers gazed at Malfoy with wary eyes. If You-Know-Who had been such a model student and able wizard, then why on earth had he been knocked off his high horse by a few of his jealous classmates that clearly wanted some glory and recognition for themselves?

"Of course," added Malfoy, "The Dark Lord did not have the best of upbringings…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He looks just like his Papa. Thank God."

Merope Gaunt looked down at her newborn son for the first time, extremely grateful that her son had inherited his father's good looks, as opposed to her, ah, not so good looks. _At least one of us can be good looking_, Merope thought to herself. She had curly, brown, shoulder length hair, which seemed to be perpetually frizzy no matter what she did with it, dull gray eyes, a rather large, hooked nose, and was almost frighteningly thin, as though she had not seen a decent meal in weeks. The baby, meanwhile, was the diminutive version of his very handsome father: short, straight, jet-black hair, black eyes, a straight, high-placed nose, and a small mouth.

"Awww, look at him!"

"He's the cutest baby I've ever seen!"

Merope looked around. Several of the orphanage aides had entered the room, accompanied by the orphanage nurse. The aides crowded around the bed, all trying to catch a glimpse of the adorable newborn.

"All right, that's enough. This girl has just given birth barely twenty minutes ago, she needs her rest," the nurse reprimanded. The aides exited the room, looking slightly crestfallen.

"Here," said the nurse, handing Merope a blanket for the baby and placing extra blankets upon the bed. "By the way," she went on, "you still haven't named your son."

Merope looked down at the baby boy, now asleep in her arms. "He looks just like his father," she said, almost to herself. "I'll name him Tom, after his father," she told the nurse. "And Marvolo, after mine. And Riddle will be his surname. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

The nurse smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her. Merope closed her eyes, exhausted. _Giving birth really takes a lot out of you_, she thought. She immediately regretted naming Tom after his father and grandfather, the two bastards she hated the most. She hated Marvolo for physically and mentally abusing her for the last eighteen years and making her feel like less than a human being. She hated Tom because he had left her, despite them having a child together… Tom had left her…

Tears rolled down Merope's face. The thought of Tom leaving her, of losing her one true love, was almost as unbearable as actually losing him had been.

It was too much for Merope. She rolled over in her bed and died, died crying for her lost love, with her beautiful newborn baby boy in her arms.

A/N: Hoped you liked my little intro! Sorry it was a bit short, the next chapters won't be! It should be a great story, and it won't be done any time soon. Don't forget to review!!


	2. Chapter 2 Eleven Years Later

A/N: Sorry for the long pause between chapters, I've been incredibly busy and haven't found the time to write more until now. Anyway, enjoy Chapter 2!

*Just a warning, the scene that parallels the memory from HBP isn't verbatim with the book. But I think I got the basics.*

**Chapter 2: Eleven Years Later**

London lay in sleepy tranquility, sprawled out under the velvety black blanket of pre-dawn twilight. The warm darkness gradually gave way to a triumphant July sunrise, with various shades of red, orange, and pink each casting their own brilliant colors over every corner of the capital.

As the sun assumed its lofty position in the sky above the London, most the inhabitants of Westminster Orphanage reposed in balmy comfort under their thin, but comfy, bedclothes. One orphan, however, sat on a straight-backed wooden chair and watched the sun cast its magnificent colors and dark shadows onto the glass-paned sides skyline office buildings.

Eventually, Tom Riddle turned his back on the sunrise and walked back to his bed. Lying down, he closed his dark eyes and ran a hand through his short, jet-black hair. Barely a minute later, however, was his solace disturbed:

"Tom. Tom! TOM! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

Tom rolled his eyes and grudgingly got up from his bed. He knew what was going on. One of the little brats that infested this place he was forced to call home had lost their yo-yo or bracelet or some other insignificant piece of garbage, and had taken it upon him- or herself to blame it on him. But why the bloody hell did they have to do it at the ass crack of freaking dawn?!

Tom walked down the hall to the top of the staircase that led down to the ground floor. Looking down, he saw Mrs. Cole, the orphanage matron, glaring menacingly up at him. It was the look she reserved especially for when she reprimanded Tom Next to her was little Billy Stebbins, gazing up at him through blood-red eyes with a look that wished him a drawn-out and painful death. Tom looked right back at them, expressionless, waiting to hear what ludicrous accusations were being hurled against him this time.

"What did I just say boy? Get down here THIS INSTANT!"

Tom took his time walking down the twelve steps between the first floor landing and the ground level. When he finally stopped just outside of Mrs. Cole's "personal bubble," she began.

"Would you care to explain how _that_ got up there?"

Tom looked up to see what Mrs. Cole was referring to: five stories above them, was a rabbit, hung from a makeshift noose in the rafters.

He gazed up at it for a few more moments, and then regarded Mrs. Cole once more.

"I have no idea how that got up there."

And he was telling the truth. To his knowledge, no one in the orphanage had owned a rabbit; to suggest that he had stolen said rabbit and killed it so heinously was ridiculous. But, of course, Mrs. Cole and Stebbins had already made up their minds.

"I know it was you! You're the one who stole the teddy bear I got for Christmas last year!" shouted Stebbins, burying his face in his hands as he succumbed to tears once more.

"We both know that you did it, so you might as well come clean before you get yourself into more trouble," said Mrs. Cole.

"I'm telling you I didn't do it. If you don't believe me, that's your problem. I know I'm telling the truth."

And he turned and climbed back up to the first floor, completely ignoring Mrs. Cole's repeated summons and Stebbins' indignant shouts.

Slamming the door behind him with almost unnecessary force, Tom threw himself down on the bed and scowled at the headboard. _Why_ _does everyone assume that I'm to blame for everything that goes wrong around here? _ Tom thought to himself. _What have I ever done to any of them?_

_If only I could get out of this place. If only I could go somewhere where people will appreciate me, and not look at me like I'm the freaking spawn of Satan. If only I could go far, far away. If only…_

And as he fell asleep, it was with a profound wish that he would never awake from his deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Next Day…~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tom! TOM! _TOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!_"

Still incensed over the Stebbins incident, Tom pretended not to hear Mrs. Cole shouting his name as though the building were on fire. As far as he was concerned, they could let it burn down with him in it, it wasn't as though anyone would truly be sad that he was gone.

_Knock knock knock._

Mrs. Cole entered Tom's room, of course without bothering to wait for Tom's permission to enter. A man entered behind her, the strangest man that Tom had ever laid eyes on. He had waist-length auburn hair; an equally long beard and mustache, which he tied into a pseudo-ponytail; and wore a plum coloured suit which clashed magnificently with his hair. He eyed Tom with an expression of interest, but said nothing.

"You have a visitor," Mrs. Cole said unnecessarily. "His name is Mr. Dunderbore… I mean Mr. Dumberton… and he's here to… well, I'll let him tell you."

And she left, slamming the door behind her.

The newcomer regarded Tom for another minute or so before beginning.

"Hello Tom," he started. "My name is Professor Dumbledore…"

"'Professor'? Is that a fancy term for 'Doctor'? Everyone thinks I'm mad, I'm not mad, I swear I'm not…" interrupted Tom.

"You are not mad, and I am not a doctor. I am a teacher at a school called Hogwarts…"

"'School,' yeah right! That's probably what you tell all the nutters to convince them to follow you to the madhouse…" scoffed Tom.

"Will you let me finish?"

Tom opened his mouth to speak, shut it, glared at the "professor" with the look that he usually reserved for Mrs. Cole, and nodded.

"My name is Professor Dumbledore. I am a teacher at a school called Hogwarts. But it is not an ordinary school. Hogwarts is a school for special people. People like you."

"What's so special about me?" Tom asked. "Sorry," he added, after seeing the look Professor Dumbledore was giving him.

"You are more special that you know, Tom. Hogwarts is a school for people with… special abilities."

He paused, anticipating another interjection from Tom. When it did not come, he continued.

"Hogwarts is a school of magic. You're a wizard Tom."

He paused again, but Tom was at a loss of words. What was this man on about? A wizard?! There was only one explanation…

"You're the one who's mad, not me," Tom said flatly. "Wizards can't be real. They nothing but people you read about in fairy tales."

"You have been raised by Muggles—non magical people, I should say—and they have taught you not to believe in anything that merely exists as a story to them. But there is still a secret world of witches and wizards beside the 'normal' world. You just haven't been looking in the right places. And watch who you're calling mad!"

Tom struggled to comprehend what this meant. "So… this school. Hogwarts. Has other people like me?"

"What do you mean, 'like you'?" Dumbledore asked, interested.

"People who get crap for doing absolutely nothing. People who get blamed for everything that goes wrong. People who are scared and anxious all the time. People who just want to get away…"

He paused, afraid that he had told the stranger too much. After all, they had met barely ten minutes previously; it was unbecoming to be spilling his heart out so soon.

Dumbledore looked at him more intently now; he seemed to be choosing his words carefully before he spoke.

"Have there been… incidents? Times when strange things happened, and you couldn't explain what happened, or why? And people naturally blamed you?"

"Only 20 times a day!" Tom yelled, getting angry again. "Whenever anything slightly out of the ordinary goes on around here, I'm the first suspect. And 99% of the time, it isn't me. AND I'M SICK OF EVERYONE TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I'M DEAF, CALLING ME MAD AND SAYING THAT THEY'D ALL BE BETTER OFF WITHOUT ME IN THEIR LIVES. I JUST WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS PLACE AND NEVER COME BACK! I WANT TO GO SOMEWHERE WHERE PEOPLE ACTUALLY VALUE MY PRESENCE AND DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE I'M THE GHOST OF FREAKING CHRISTMAS PAST. I… I…"

And he stopped shouting as suddenly as he's started. This was the first time he'd had a chance to vent his long-bottled up feelings of anger and loneliness to anyone that actually existed [what else were imaginary friends for?], and he had to admit that it felt good. Good to have someone who understood, and who might be able to help him escape. Tom continued to stare at Dumbledore, breathing hard, waiting for the older man to speak. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"These incidents are caused by your uncontrolled magic, which manifests itself whenever you are scared or angry. That's why you seem to constantly be blamed for everything: whenever someone blames you and you get angry, something else happens. Things that none of the other orphans, who are admittedly more sociable than yourself, admit to. So the natural suspect is you, because you are the loner, the quiet one who is bound to 'snap' You are the cause of everything, but it isn't your fault. This is normal for a wizard.

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, "we teach you how to control and develop your magical abilities. You will learn how to consciously use magic, as well as situations where the use of magic is appropriate. People have been known to… abuse their powers, and we do not tolerate that type of behavior at Hogwarts."

Producing a parchment envelope, he opened it, pulled out a sheet of paper, and handed it to Tom.

"Here, you will find all of the logistics for the school year: start of term, school holidays, exams, end of term, and so on. Also in the envelope are you school supply list, along with where you can find those supplies; a letter welcoming you to Hogwarts; and all of the rules and regulations of the school. And be warned: at Hogwarts, the rules were not meant to be broken. Now before I leave you, do you have any questions for me?"

Tom was still in shock that this was not a dream: he had been pinching himself continuously since the end of his tirade, and had yet to wake up.

"Are you sure I'm not dreaming?"

Dumbledore chuckled before answering. "No Tom, you are not dreaming. I assure you that this has been 100% real. Now I suggest you look over all of that information, and don't hesitate to write to me if any questions occur to you."

"But sir, there is no address on the envelope…"

"If you need to contact me, you may send me a letter via owl. There are plenty of owls available for public use in the Diagon Alley Owlery. Your letter gives directions to Diagon Alley as well," Dumbledore added, seeing Tom's questioning expression.

"Now, as I have another previous engagement, I really must be going. I look forward to seeing you again at the start of term. Good day Tom."

And he bowed and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Tom stayed stock still, staring at the envelope he gripped. It had to be a dream. He was finally, after eleven miserable years trapped in this gloomy place, leaving. And he would be surrounded by people who understood. A small flame of hope lit up inside Tom.

_I might actually make a friend._

A/N: Hope you enjoyed Chapter 2! More coming soon!


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